


You’re the only thing I know

by nanases_h



Series: Need Your Light [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Drama, Emotional Baggage, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Porn With Plot, Romance, Travel, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 00:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12157572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanases_h/pseuds/nanases_h
Summary: “The stars are bright tonight. You would have enjoyed tracing constellations on our way here,” Arthur continued.“Oh yeah?” said Alfred, “Well, my favourite constellation is right here.”He pressed his lips against the cluster of freckles on Arthur’s cheekbone. Arthur felt blood rush across his cheeks. His heart roared in his chest as words fled him like a flock of birds after an explosion.They say you should travel with your lover to know them better, that’s why Alfred and Arthur went on a road trip across Europe after college graduation. But insecurities and deep-seated issues resurfaced, threatening to end their new and fragile relationship. Will they stay together or will they let their issues tear them apart?





	You’re the only thing I know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lunar_Iris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunar_Iris/gifts).



> Here’s another poetic smut for y’all. This is what I like to call a word vomit of introspection, smut, fluff, and angst. You know, the usual. Title’s from ‘Take Me Home’ by Cash Cash. I'm gifting this to my beta, Lunar Iris, for being an awesome friend since the beginning. ;)
> 
> I seem to be fond of writing for this AU, am I not (are you sick of it yet). We seem to be going backwards in time tho?? If you’re new to the AU, fear not! Each story can stand alone, so you’ll still be able to tell what’s going on. 
> 
> This one is right after Alfred and Arthur’s college graduation, so that’s why they’re traveling across Europe, and why they can’t read each other very well yet (unlike the previous stories). Enjoy!

“The frog was right about the sunset,” said Arthur. “Too bad we didn’t catch the sunrise today.” 

Ever since hearing about their Eurotrip plan, their friend Francis Bonnefoy didn’t shut up until Alfred and Arthur agreed to begin their journey from his home country: France. Of course, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to promote the beauty of his country, especially when his two friends would be celebrating their college graduation. And off he sent them, waving  _ Bon Voyage! _ as he teased them like they were newlyweds and not fresh university graduates. 

Alfred and Arthur landed at Nice Airport yesterday just when the sun was setting. Unable to contain his excitement, Alfred bounced on his seat as he took photos of the French Riviera’s shimmering blue waters. From their hotel window, while having room service dinner, they watched the vivid colours dancing in the sky as the sun sank on the horizon. 

“Yeah, I slept like a baby the moment my head hit the pillow last night,” said Alfred, reminiscing the heavy exhaustion he felt after their nine-hour flight. “Couldn’t drag myself out of bed until you woke me up at like, what,  7 a.m.?” 

Arthur chuckled, turning the steering wheel to the right. The day’s agenda was to take a day trip across the Provence region, starting with a full tank from Lorgues to the Verdon Gorges, Europe’s Grand Canyon. In the early hours of morning, they hit the hill roads to avoid the traffic rush. 

“Did you get enough sleep?” asked Alfred, drumming his fingertips on his knees. The wind in his face was refreshing.

“Only just.” 

Alfred could make out the bags under Arthur’s eyes through those shiny aviator sunglasses. Their trip preparations took weeks with Arthur coordinating almost everything: from booking their flights and hotel rooms, arranging their itinerary, and packing. He whirled around Alfred’s dorm room with his cute little notepad, ticking off items on his checklist. He helped him choose which shirts to pack, how many pieces of underwear to bring—  _ No, you’re not wearing your underpants inside out—  _ threatening not to sleep with Alfred if he did. He was even more particular than Alfred’s mom, but he didn’t dare mention it. 

Sometimes, he had to stop Arthur from micromanaging to the least significant details— like keeping both of their boarding passes among other things— reassuring Arthur that they would be fine, while internally thanking his lucky stars for having Arthur. He’d always felt the sense of safety and stability with him.

Alfred had kept his mind busy with the thoughts of packing a bag. Arthur would be showing him his side of the world, he’d like to think, to ignore the presence of Arthur’s things that were ready to be shipped back to England by the end of summer. Last spring, he and Arthur took a cross country trip in the US and it was one of the best decisions he made in his life. Apparently, Arthur enjoyed travelling with him enough to do it again, this time in Europe. 

Alfred pinned two cigarettes between his lips and lit them, handing one to Arthur.

“Cheers, love,” said Arthur. Smoking was one of the bad habits they had yet to kick. 

Without saying anything else, Alfred looked intently at the cigarette between Arthur’s long and slim fingers, a constant image he liked capturing in his head— Arthur had always been elegant without trying. 

He snapped out of his little daydream as Arthur caught him staring. He was blushing like Alfred had caught him belting out Queen. 

“What?” asked Arthur, concentrating on the winding road again. 

“Nothing,” he replied. Failing to wipe the idiotic grin in his face, he turned back to the rustic road. 

His body was thrumming with joy and excitement, just like each time he was with Arthur. His mind raced with the prospect of adventures, the thrill of the unknown and unexplored places, of all the people they were going to meet… Arthur had shown him more than anyone ever did. Nobody could make his heart leap out of his chest like him.  

Alfred stuck his head out the window and inhaled the fresh forest breeze. 

Arthur was his Friday night fireworks, his midsummer flame that kept him wanting for more, more, more. 

To extinguish the growing combustion in his chest, Alfred occupied himself by checking the map. He put his feet up on the dashboard. They would stop at the little towns on their way to the Verdon Gorges and see what they had. Tracing the map with his fingertip, he said, “So, Villecroze, Tourtour, Châteaudouble…”

Arthur wrinkled his nose at Alfred’s awful pronunciation. 

Before Arthur could comment on it, Alfred said, “Our past selves would  _ fuh-reak _ if they knew we’re together now.” He snorted. 

Even though they had already been together for months, they hadn’t completely wrapped their head around the fact that they were close to mortal enemies the first time they met until they resolved their sexual tension one night and the rest was history. 

“My past self would probably throw himself off a cliff, ha ha…” 

Alfred stiffened in his seat. 

“But then again, alcohol is life, so that’s that,” Arthur said, steering the conversation somewhere safer. 

After a moment of silence, Alfred spoke, “Let me know if you feel sleepy so we can switch.” 

“Sure,” retorted Arthur.  

Alfred fixed him a look. “Arthur.” 

Arthur sighed. “I will, I will. Don’t you worry, I got this.” 

Alfred turned up the radio to break the stillness that followed. The ambient noise wasn’t enough. He focused on the female singer’s impressive vocal range and how her voice flowed smoothly to the beat while feeling the lyrics thundering in his chest…. 

“Are you sure you don’t wanna cancel England?” asked Arthur. “We have Switzerland, Italy, and Croatia before our last stop. There’s still time to back out.” 

“No way! I wanna meet your family again. Your dad promised we’d go fishing,” said Alfred, remembering Mr. Kirkland’s promise to him on their graduation day.  

“All right, but we’ll have to visit Mum in Cambridge before we go to Dad’s in Cornwall. You know how she is. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you,” said Arthur, “My nephews and nieces will pester you to no end— their cool Uncle Arthur had brought them an overgrown child they can play with, oh they’ll be thrilled!”

“Well they won’t be able to resist my charisma, will they?” asked Alfred.

“I’m gonna throw up,” said Arthur. 

“But to be honest, everyone’s been very nice so far. Even your brothers aren’t as overprotective or scary as I thought they would be. We should keep away from your mom’s evil ex-boyfriends though.” 

His mouth had spouted more than necessary before he realised it. He reprimanded himself internally and made him look like he had bitten orange pips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Arthur, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. 

They lapsed into silence again and even the songs on the radio couldn’t comfort Alfred. He wished he and Arthur were singing along to silly songs instead of clinging to the background noise to fill the unbearable silence. 

He placed his hand on top of Arthur’s that was on the gear. They had different ways of communication, but they made an effort to speak the other’s love language. Arthur’s was time: he would make sure he’d devote a portion of his time solely to Alfred, and Alfred would do the same. Alfred’s was touch, and he would use it more when words seemed to fail. 

However, there were times when Arthur didn’t feel like touching. He’d sit by himself, and the silence would make Alfred anxious. He’d reach for Alfred’s hand to squeeze it, saying,  _ I’m not upset. I just need some time alone.  _ And he would understand. 

* * *

By the time they returned to their hotel room in Nice, Arthur’s head was still swimming with images of their day trip. The little medieval villages and their surrounding natural splendour made them feel like the twenty-first century didn’t exist. He could still taste the Niçoise cuisine that they feasted upon: the ratatouille, fresh salad, and wine… And oh, the Verdon Gorges were  _ gorgeous.  _ A thousand colours and scents filled his senses as they kayaked along its aquamarine waters. The picnic by Sainte-Croix Lake was the perfect way to end their trip before they headed back to Nice.

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, taking his shoes off. Wordlessly, Alfred sat beside him and didn’t wait for the next second to kiss him. Their lips touched each other while they undid their clothes. There was no pretence. It was simple but never mechanical. Arthur’s tongue dipped into Alfred’s mouth, stroking against his. As his fingers found the buttons of Arthur’s starched shirt, Alfred’s lips pressed on his jaw and the base of his throat. 

“Did you bring some toys?” asked Alfred.

“No, we didn’t have enough space,” said Arthur, flicking his tongue along Alfred’s left ear.

“Hmm,” he replied, too busy unfastening Arthur’s belt. 

They had lots of toys, which accumulated in time, and had become part of their shared assets. One of Alfred’s favourites was the rope— he liked to be tied up and blindfolded. Arthur imagined Alfred’s strong arms bound by the thick ropes that he’d secured around him (he didn’t know he was good with ropes until recently). He could almost hear him moaning and writhing in pleasure as he played with his body. 

“Guess I don't mind being vanilla with you,” said Alfred. 

“My dear, we’ve been going vanilla since the day I returned from London,” replied Arthur.

Laughter erupted like firecracker. “Too true!” 

They talked and teased while touching each other. Arthur bit Alfred’s bottom lip and soothed it with his tongue. 

They had started rumours in university. Ever since they started dating, everybody wanted to know if Alfred— the campus golden boy— liked it rough, if he was loud, if it felt good while he screamed Arthur’s name. Arthur felt an uncanny power over everyone because he preferred to keep the details to himself, leaving them to their imaginations. He and Alfred would have sex whenever and however they wanted, and rumours would remain rumours.  

He remembered the day he came back from his internship in London. He and Alfred had barely made it to the front door of his apartment, their hands all over each other. Alfred took his time rediscovering every inch of Arthur’s body with his mouth, finally getting to taste him again after  _ months _ , and Arthur mapped out his body with the same strong currents of enthusiasm. They shagged relentlessly for days, and although they felt like their hips dislocated every time they walked, it didn’t wipe the smirk off their faces.

Alfred launched himself on top of Arthur, grinding hard against him. “I want to fuck you so hard, Europe splits from Asia.” 

Arthur bursted into laughter. “Oh, dear!”

Ridiculous as it was, Alfred’s dirty talk worked. The bulge between Arthur’s legs twitched as he shivered with laughter. Anything related to Alfred’s incredible strength turned him on, and it boosted Alfred’s self-confidence.  

Pinning Arthur’s wrists above his head, Alfred scanned his partial nudity like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He kissed the side of his ribs, wet lips brushing against Arthur’s warm skin, making Arthur laugh some more because it was ticklish. 

They didn’t remove their clothes completely. It was one of their shared kinks: there was something dirty about it, like they could see and touch and enter the body parts they shouldn’t. It was as though they were desecrating the other and it gave them a strange sense of satisfaction. 

Arthur groaned as Alfred inserted his lube-coated fingers in his entrance. He didn’t bother grabbing a condom. They hadn’t used one for ages (they only stopped wearing protection after getting tested). After all, they were in an exclusive and trusting relationship, and nothing felt better for them than skin to skin contact. 

A few moments later, when Arthur seemed like he couldn’t take any more of Alfred’s fingers, Alfred knelt between his legs. Lust was thinly veiled in his face. “Ready?” 

Arthur raised his bottom impatiently and wrapped his legs around Alfred’s waist. “Yes! Give it to me!”

He continued making obscene sounds with his lovely mouth, encouraging Alfred until he was deep inside him. God, did he miss the weight of Alfred’s body on top of him. Agony and pleasure were two constant sensations flowing inside him when he and Alfred were becoming one. They rolled underneath the sheets, kissing each other wherever their lips could touch, their skin slick with sweat, and their hearts racing. 

They were young and free, but at the same time, scared of uncertainties. Their relationship was a new one, still fragile, and they were constantly testing the waters. They had been trying their best avoiding the elephant in the room: Arthur was coming back to England for work and they only had the summer before they would part ways again. The best solution: turn their attention somewhere else— finding things they enjoyed doing together, like traveling, kissing, and fucking a lot. There were many ways to indulge each other, and they discovered new things they liked about each other every day. 

Alfred came first, moaning desperately as Arthur’s tightness around his cock caused him to explode. He clutched Arthur as he spilled inside him, filling him up to the brim. This tipped Arthur over the edge. And with the help of Alfred’s hands, he finished, shooting white and sticky rivulets. 

They lay together in the first seconds of the aftermath, dazed and languid and breathless. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Alfred reached around the nightstand for a cigarette. Smoke curled from its bright orange tip as he slipped an arm around Arthur’s shoulders, leaning against the headboard. He took another drag and passed it Arthur, which he graciously accepted. 

This took Arthur back to his lazy mornings in bed, when he was in London. He would be nestled in between the sheets, an ashtray on the duvet, not giving a fuck if its whiteness was sullied, while talking to Alfred on the phone and trying to forget being miserable. 

“Another?” asked Alfred, breaking their long moments of silence. 

“Of course,” Arthur replied, and cupped Alfred’s face in his hands to kiss him like a ravenous beast.

They finally shed their clothes and fucked sloppily for the second time until they passed out. 

Sleep eluded Arthur that night, however. He woke up from his nap with idle thoughts buzzing in his head that were too loud. Alfred was comfortably wrapped around him, his face relaxed with peaceful sleep. Very carefully, he lifted Alfred’s heavy arm that clung to his upper body and eased himself out of his hold. 

In London, whenever he didn’t fall asleep right after Alfred’s video calls, Arthur would write letters. It was really an old habit that he’d formed since he could remember, when he wasn’t feeling all together, like a scattered jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. There was a folder in his laptop that was full of letters to himself and to Alfred that he never sent, and kept it like a journal. Sometimes he’d read them to quench his craving for comfort, although reading the others felt like picking at a scab. 

This was one of those times, and he wished he could write a letter. Words tangled themselves together in his head, words that he wanted to tell Alfred, but couldn’t trust himself to say aloud. 

Unfortunately, he had left his MacBook across the Atlantic. He couldn’t risk waking Alfred by scavenging around the room for writing materials, so he’d just light a cigarette and put his faith on the leftover wine to help him fall back to sleep. 

He was pleased they left the lamp on; he hated waking Alfred when he turned on the light in the middle of the night, oftentimes while he was drenched with sweat and struggling to remember how to breathe. He sat on the edge of the bed and drank straight from the bottle, tasting the zesty liquid on his lips and taking a whiff of its white grape fragrance. Behind him, Alfred murmured and shifted, rolling over to his side, his shapely backside barely covered by the mess of blankets. 

Arthur closed his eyes. He was actually in Europe with Alfred. Weeks ago, they were only daydreaming about it. Months before, they were sworn enemies at a bar he frequented. His chest twinged a little. 

He’d never admit it, but he was still having a hard time accepting the fact that he was with Alfred. To begin with, he wasn’t used to being treated nicely. He was raised to believe he was a fucking liability. Not good enough, not worth anything. Too much to handle, only caused trouble. Who would want an albatross like him wrapped around their neck? His true colours showed in university when he earned a notorious reputation through wild and graceless nights. He was the person to call for a good time, drinking straight to his brain like the mere concept of tomorrow didn’t exist, and relentlessly looking for a good fuck. He was trapped in an endless cycle, chasing the short-lived high because he didn’t really know any better. 

Yet Alfred chose to be with him. Dear, sweet Alfred who never questioned why Arthur would take the day off all of a sudden, who would ask him to call to know he was all right, who wouldn’t sleep until he knew Arthur was safe at home. Oh this funny and caring and beautiful human. He was too good for him.

Other people would be overjoyed to have these good things happen to them, but they only made Arthur feel worse. Guilt had creeped its way into his gut before he realised it. 

_ Honestly, other people have it worse than you. You have everything people your age could ever want. How dare you feel bad about your life? _ People would comment, punishing him for what he felt, completely invalidating his feelings. 

A stabbing pain was tearing off his chest. 

Another sip. He closed his eyes. He concentrated on the burn that was sliding slowly down his throat. 

The mattress dipped behind him as Alfred stirred. Slowly, his lips found Arthur’s neck, his arms circling tightly around his waist. He murmured something that sounded like  _ Arthur.  _

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, tugging at Alfred’s arms, “Did I wake you up?” 

“Only because you weren’t beside me,” Alfred croaked, “Come back to bed…” 

Alfred gave him a long, lazy, and sleepy kiss, his breath tickling Arthur’s cheek, his blue eyes hooded. 

“Let me just clean this up,” said Arthur, rubbing Alfred’s back. 

He put the wine bottle by the foot of the bed and brushed his teeth in the bathroom. When he came back, Alfred immediately wrapped himself around him, holding him tight. He’d been clingier more than ever since Arthur returned from England. 

“It’s been going great so far, isn’t it?” asked Alfred. 

“Don’t jinx it,” said Arthur, resting his palm on Alfred’s cheek. 

“I’m having a lot of fun. Are you?” 

Arthur nodded. 

They lapsed into silence. Arthur watched the lights and shadows crosshatch the ceiling. 

“You slept through the best parts,” he said, turning his head to see Alfred’s face. He played with Alfred’s hair, twirling the strands between his fingers. His mind played short clips of today’s favourite scenes: the winding mountain roads, shady forests, open skies, the fading sunlight touching Alfred’s sleeping face.

“The stars are bright tonight. You would have enjoyed tracing constellations on our way here,” Arthur continued.

“Oh yeah?” said Alfred, “Well, my favourite constellation is right here.” 

He pressed his lips against the cluster of freckles on Arthur’s cheekbone. Arthur felt blood rush across his cheeks. His heart roared in his chest as words fled him like a flock of birds after an explosion.

Alfred looked into his eyes, searching for something like an astronomer gazing into undiscovered galaxies, but not saying anything. He rubbed the pad of his thumbs on Arthur’s cheeks. 

Then, sleepily and gently, he murmured, “I love you.”

A simple reminder. 

It was a declaration different from the three words they said in the heat of sex, in between breathless motions, while they became one. There was something brave and vulnerably honest saying  _ I love you _ at 3 a.m. It was Alfred baring his chest and jumping into the stormy, ice-cold ocean, offering himself as a lifeline to keep Arthur from drowning in the unwanted thoughts in his head. 

Sometimes, for Arthur, it was all he needed to hear to silence the noise. Smoothing Alfred’s honey-blond hair back from his face, Arthur looked into those deep blue eyes.

“I love you too.” 

Alfred embraced him tighter. He felt the weight of Alfred’s ribs against him, and let the beating of his heart comfort him. He pictured them lying together in a small boat, floating along the Verdon Gorges, their peaceful aquamarine waters rocking them to sleep. He listened to his own heart beating in his chest; he could breathe fine. It was the last thing he remembered before drifting away.

* * *

From Nice, they drove to Geneva. As they did in Provence, they started touring the Swiss city in the morning. They went to Plainpalais first, which was commonly labelled as the hipster district (the label itself was enough to interest Arthur and prioritise it on their itinerary). It had a flea market where they found people haggling over vintage dresses and trinkets.

Then, they continued walking along the Old Town. They picked a café and had breakfast while watching people stroll around the streets, weaving through the patchwork of art galleries and shops. 

“Vash would have toured us around. Too bad he couldn’t make it until next week,” said Arthur. Vash was a Swiss guy with a blond bob and an unhealthy obsession with guns. He took Finance with Arthur in university and they were regular drinking buddies. 

“He would have been an interesting tour guide though,” replied Alfred, sipping his hot chocolate. “With his temper and all.”

“He’s not too bad,” said Arthur, smiling. “He just doesn’t like you very much.” 

“Hey!” 

He wouldn’t say it aloud but Alfred was having a lovely day. Just him and Arthur, exploring this charming and ancient city while occasionally talking to locals and fellow tourists. 

“Stand there under the light,” said Arthur. They had finished people-watching and were discovering the rest of the Old Town. He was playing photographer like he always did on their trips. With a camera laced around his neck, he directed Alfred so he could have ‘decent photos’.

Alfred stepped in the middle of the cobblestone pavement. It was a narrow, quiet street that no vehicles had passed through so far. He finger-combed his hair before stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his khaki pants. “Here?”

“Yes, perfect.”  

With rapid clicks, he captured Alfred’s sunlit image, adjusting the angles every now and then. He smiled at his screen and shielded it from Alfred when he peered at it. 

“You never let me see them on your camera,” Alfred pouted. 

“Later,” replied Arthur, heading to their next destination.  

Arthur would surprise him later by posting his photos on social media with his vague or sarcastic captions (Alfred had suspicions it was to avoid being cheesy). They never failed to stun him every time. They looked like they were made for magazines, not as travel souvenirs for personal photo albums.

Alfred would joke about them, dropping self-absorbed comments to mask the confusion in his chest. He didn’t really know how to feel about them because he never saw himself in that light. Growing up, he could never please people, as if he was a rough draft on paper that people kept crumpling and tossing aside.  _ Why can’t you be like this? Why can’t you be like that?  _ His physical appearance was a frequent target too, and so he struggled being comfortable in his own skin. 

Arthur continued taking photos, unaware of Alfred’s wandering thoughts that were, in turn, putting him under his own lens. Arthur did have a different way of seeing things. He could transform them and make people see the way he did if he wanted. Like making grandpa clothes look cool and classy, for example. Or using the letter  _ x _ , although Alfred found out later on it was generally a British thing. When they first started dating, Arthur ended his texts with  _ x  _ (i.e. _ See you later. x _ ) _.  _ Perplexed, Alfred came to the verge of panic. What did they mean? Did he not like Alfred? Arthur let him figure it out by himself. At present, on lucky days, he’d get  _ xxxxxxx _ , and he’d feel stupidly happy. 

Nobody could confuse him like Arthur. He could drive him to the wall sometimes, but Alfred couldn’t complain about spending too much time with him. 

He was a crumpled paper to others, but to Arthur, he was a work of art. 

“Hey, let’s go see the church,” said Arthur, grabbing his arm and dispelling his thoughts. 

“Okay,” he replied.

Goddamn, Arthur had turned him into a poet. 

Cathedral St-Pierre was famous for its tower that offered the best view of the city. Arthur took some snaps of the stained glass windows and the ornate ceiling before they climbed the spiral staircase with very narrow steps. It took them a while to reach the top, both heaving because of corrupted lungs and because the panorama before them stole their breath. It was a postcard view of the city: blocks of mansard roofs crowded the land and beyond them was Lake Geneva meeting the brilliant blue sky. 

Alfred closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh air. He would have a hard time adjusting back to the all the city bustle and high-rise architecture at home. Folding his arms, he leaned against the ledge. His mind drifted back to the castles in the medieval villages of Provence. 

“Do you think it will be cool to live in a castle?” he asked Arthur. 

Arthur blinked at him, the breeze blowing the hair away from his face. “I don’t think so,” he said, gazing at the horizon. “Imagine fucking in a bed that’s centuries old. Heaven knows how many couples had done it there. You’ll never know if their ghosts were watching you.” 

A shiver creeped down Alfred’s spine. He disliked ghosts. Note—  _ disliked _ , not feared. How ridiculous was he to be scared of ghosts? 

Leave it to Arthur to smash Alfred’s romanticised ideas with his cynicism. 

“You’re right.” He said and dragged Arthur outside the church. 

Still in the Old Town, they walked along the main shopping area surrounding Place de la Fusterie. Alfred bought chocolates for his family while Arthur took more photos and covertly managed his boyfriend’s splurges so he wouldn’t go on retail therapy mode and blame himself for a maxed out credit card when the bill came. He had been very prone to blowing out his money the past few months considering all the stress he had to deal with, but he had spent his money wisely on this trip so far. 

It was a close call when Alfred found a toy replica of a market town. It captured the likeness of old world Geneva, but it was very decorative and it had no other purpose at all. 

“It’s just a scheme to make willing tourists spend their money,” Arthur said, looking around to find something that would distract Alfred.  

“How do you know?” Alfred asked. 

He knew it was a rhetorical question, but still, he replied, “Of course, I know all about it. I read Finance in university, remember?” 

Alfred pouted like a child. Arthur said nothing. He only took Alfred’s hand and squeezed it as they walked away from the shop. 

“But it’s on sale!” 

“Do you need it? Do you have space for it?”

Alfred opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur cut him off. He gave Alfred an amused look. “Have you seen your flat lately? It’ll surprise you how much junk you have if you’re to pack your things and move in with me.”

That made Alfred blush. Not from the embarrassing truth of the first part of the statement, but from the second. Was Arthur asking him to move to London? Did he want Alfred to come live with him? 

They resolved the issue when they took the tram ride across the Old Town. The mini train was a colourful red and green like it was straight from a toy town. Arthur distracted him further by saying they would be having dinner at a rooftop bar later and Alfred could spend his money on booze. 

Jardin Anglais was next on their list. It was a lovely nineteenth-century lakeside park with winding paths, rotundas, and tunnels of trees. From there, they watched Jet D’Eau soar into the heavens. 

For the last part of their day tour, Alfred and Arthur went on a one-hour boat ride across Lake Geneva. It was very peaceful onboard. They could only hear the humming of the boat engine and the sound of light chatter. The sun was setting over the horizon, the still waters reflecting the soft, golden light. 

“It’s beautiful…” Arthur said, facing the pastel-coloured sky. 

Alfred, his eyes fixed on Arthur’s awed face, replied, “It is.” 

His heart was happily thrumming inside his chest. Arthur was standing close to him, like what it was always supposed to be. Silently, he wished to the universe to let them live this moment forever. 

* * *

That night, once they arrived in their hotel room, they instantly peeled off their clothes and buried themselves under the sheets. There really was no point in wearing clothes in the privacy of their bedroom when all they wanted was to feel each other’s skin. They snuggled while checking the shows on TV, hoping the foreign language shows would put them to sleep.

Alfred stopped clicking the remote as he found a melodramatic Italian soap opera. From what they could tell, it was a love triangle involving the unfaithful husband, his mistress, and his dying wife. Other than that, they had no idea what the hell was happening, so they invented their own dialogue until they were laughing so hard their stomach hurt. Alfred delivered the most humorous punchlines just to see Arthur smile. 

When Arthur smiled, the corners of his eyes would crinkle, and Alfred would feel sparks dancing under his skin. When Arthur laughed too hard, he’d bend over and his eyes would start to water. It was contagious. The sound of it tickled Alfred’s heart, making his chest swell with joy. 

Then fell silence, and Arthur’s head was on his shoulder. He was fast asleep. 

Alfred repositioned him comfortably, resting his head on the pillow and straightening his body and his limbs. Pulling the comforters over his shoulders, Alfred cuddled him and kissed him good night. 

When Arthur rolled to his side, Alfred wrapped his arms around him, pressing his chest against Arthur’s back to be the big spoon, folding himself into Arthur. He buried his nose on his neck and inhaled the scent of his cologne. The day’s memories showered over his senses— the smell of chocolate, the crowd’s noise surrounding the Old Town, the textured walls of St. Peter’s Cathedral on his fingertips, and the sunlight bathing Arthur as they cruised the lake. He closed his eyes and fell asleep dreaming of beautiful Geneva. 

The next morning, Alfred woke up from Arthur’s kisses. He was pressing his weight against Alfred, his lips brushing across Alfred’s back, face, neck, and down to his stomach. 

Alfred cupped Arthur’s face into his hands to given an open kiss to his mouth. Arthur didn’t protest. They had reached a level of comfort where morning breath didn’t bother them anymore. 

“Good morning,” said Arthur with a smile. 

Alfred returned his smile. “Good morning.” 

He couldn’t think of any reason to get out of bed. 

Arthur was grinding against him, poking the tip of his cock against Alfred’s thigh. Alfred felt all his blood rush between his legs. His mouth captured Arthur’s again while his fingers stroked his pale but warm skin. 

Sleeping naked together was as natural as breathing for them at this point. It made touching easier and more intimate the first thing in the morning. 

Arthur curled against him like a cat, nosing his chest. Hands all over Alfred’s skin, he muttered, “Mmm, you’re so warm…” 

Their kisses were lazy from sleep. They kept missing the spot where they wanted to plant their lips, laughing at their silly attempts. Despite this, they were both contented feeling the other against them. They touched and pumped each other until the room was filled with a strong musky smell. 

Alfred brushed his fingertips across Arthur’s bottom lip. He could still see where his piercing used to be. Arthur only stopped wearing it when he entered the corporate world. He might have toned down his wild, eccentric personal style to adapt, but it didn’t soften his aggression in bed, which Alfred was extremely grateful. 

Arthur took both of Alfred’s hands and wrapped them around his cock. He ground against them until lust and craving were written all over Alfred’s face. He then stroked Alfred’s cock. 

Smirking, he moaned, “You’re so hard for me…”

“Ahh…” Alfred pressed himself against Arthur’s hand to feel more friction. 

Arthur left a trail of kisses from his mouth to his chest, taking his time until he reached that pooch below his navel. Alfred squirmed with excitement. Morning sex was the best thing they discovered once they found out they enjoyed having sex even when they were sober.

Fingers squeezing the base of Alfred’s cock, Arthur started playing with it, pressing the area above and below the shaft, eliciting soft moans. 

Alfred watched Arthur’s head sink between his thighs. Nothing could put a smile on his face in the morning faster than coffee and a blow job. 

Closing his eyes, he felt a hot wet mouth wrap around his cock. Then, Arthur withdrew his mouth to rub Alfred’s cock against his cheek and moved it gently down to his nipples, arousing him even more. Alfred sucked in a breath when he started lapping at the underside. 

On second thought, forget about coffee. Nothing could put a smile on his face in the morning faster than Arthur’s blow job. 

As he sucked on Alfred, Arthur made low noises, sending vibrations to his cock that intensified the pleasure he was receiving. Feeling his cock swell even more, Alfred couldn’t help but kick his legs, and Arthur had to hold them still so he wouldn’t close them. He couldn’t last long. 

“Christ!” He exclaimed, covering his face with his arm in embarrassment.  

And before he could give a warning, he came inside Arthur’s mouth, spilling over the corners of his lips. 

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Wiping the spilled cum from the corner of his mouth, Arthur flashed him a satisfied smile. He pressed his face on Alfred’s stomach like he did on lazy mornings. Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur’s body to send him some warmth. Seconds passed without them saying anything, Alfred contented with running his fingers through Arthur’s hair. 

It didn’t take them long to get hard again. They kissed and touched until their fingers and skin smelled of each other. 

“Let me, let me…” said Arthur, when he saw Alfred slip his fingers inside his own entrance. 

Arthur dragged Alfred to the edge of the bed, spreading his legs so that his toes were almost touching the floor. Standing in between his thighs, Arthur paused for a moment to leer at his naked body. He whispered, “You look so good lying flat on your back.” 

Feeling his entire body blush, Alfred had the urge to cover his face again. “Oh sweetheart, you spoil me too much.” 

Very slowly, Arthur circled his thumb around the tip of Alfred’s cock. “I love it as much as you do,  _ darling. _ ” 

The last word made his cock twitch, but before Alfred could react, Arthur had moved on to giving attention to another sensitive spot. He was rubbing his face in between the balls while stroking his shaft. Arthur then licked it, and Alfred ground his cock against Arthur’s tongue. He felt his sac tighten as Arthur sucked, licked, and mouthed at them, going back and forth between the shaft and the balls. 

“Ahh…” moaned Alfred once again when Arthur started fingering his tight entrance. Closing his eyes, he rolled his hips to meet them. “Don’t stop, don’t stop…” 

Alfred loved morning sex. It was slow and unhurried. Often continuing from last night, but at this point, they were more aware of what was happening. There was no more fatigue, and they could feel everything. 

He watched Arthur’s slender and beautiful body on top of him, while his face was filled with pleasure. They only had sex while facing each other these days and they wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Feeling good, love?” asked Arthur, picking up the pace as he listened to Alfred making  _ uh, uh, uh  _ noises with each thrust. 

“Fuck yes,” replied Alfred, his toes curling when he lifted his legs. He felt Arthur’s cock pulsating inside him. 

Arthur gazed at the enormous mirror to their left, watching Alfred raise his legs in the air while he fucked him senseless. There was that smirk on his face again. Arthur was fucking him so hard, the way he liked it. Fucking him for all he was worth. 

“Feels— so— good…”

He kept taking in Arthur’s girth, mumbling  _ yes, yes, yeeeeesssss,  _ until his breath hitched, his face crumpling… the tingling and the contractions unfurling in his lower body… and then the heat spreading with the speed of wildfire. 

Alfred bit his lip and cried, unable to say anything coherent. He came so hard, he felt his breath and strength leave him. Above him, Arthur was finishing too. He was coming inside Alfred, something he always liked. He loved the dirty and intimate sensation of Arthur’s seed filling him to the brim. 

Arthur grasped Alfred closer to his body, his muscles flexed and his nails dug into Alfred’s skin, and at last, he collapsed on the mattress, weak, bones feeling numb. 

“What a morning,” said Arthur, after recovering his breath.

Alfred smiled despite himself. “Yeah. Good moaning.”  

It was a play on Arthur’s accent and his dirty language that he couldn’t dare miss. 

Arthur slapped him across the chest affectionately, saying, “You’re horrible, you are!” 

To give themselves time to replenish, Alfred grabbed the packet of cigarettes from the nightstand and lit a stick. They spent the next few minutes passing cigarettes to one another, talking about nothing. Once Alfred remembered to get some tea for Arthur, his boyfriend insisted it wasn’t time for tea and breakfast yet. 

Alfred agreed; Arthur had a point. 

They were supposed to be doing what tourists do, but there they went, resuming their favourite morning activity. 

* * *

It was their last night before driving to Italy. The nightclub scene was a 180-degree turn from their tranquil afternoon picnic by the River Rhône. Before coming to the club, Alfred, Arthur, and their local friends had dinner at a nearby restaurant. They left with their bellies full of cheese fondue and lots of wine.

Their new local friends were at the bar, showing Arthur the drinks he shouldn’t miss while in Geneva. Of course, the nightclubs were part of their bucket list. Their hard-earned dollars-turned-francs would vanish in a blink but they reckoned it would be worth it. 

It was dark, but Alfred could see he was surrounded with ridiculously good-looking people. They hovered in small circles, drink in hand, chatting in different languages. 

He joined Arthur and their friends at the bar. After a couple of shots, confidence burst in his chest. He was so ready for the dance floor! He grabbed Arthur and together, they swayed to the songs that only made sense when they were partying, and not when they were playing on the radio. They took this chance to move however they want without being judged. After all, they wouldn’t be back any time soon. 

Alfred watched the red and blue lights slice across Arthur’s face. He was smiling. Despite the booming electronic music, he could hear his heart leaping inside his chest, trying to break out of his rib cage. He grabbed Arthur’s face and kissed him, a surge of relief coursing through him as Arthur kissed him back. 

In university, they’d make out on the dance floor and end up fucking against the bathroom door. They would fuck hard, with more urgency and intensity as they heard the pounding and the furious complaints behind the door. They’d finish and walk out, giving sheepish smiles and shrugging at the disgruntled people outside. 

Alfred needed more drinks. He sat beside Arthur at the bar, smoking, trying out new drinks, and people-watching. Those who weren’t dancing or making out were talking in circles. They welcomed everyone near them who were willing to listen to their amusing tales. Alfred heard two girls talking two seats away: 

“You have a beautiful face,” said the Chinese-looking girl, gesturing around her own face. 

“Thank you,” replied the dark-haired girl with bright blue eyes. “You’re beautiful, too.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me I’m beautiful just because I said you are. Are you from here? I’m from Vancouver, I’m here for two weeks. For work….” 

Eventually, amidst the controlled chaos, Alfred found someone who was passionate about Star Wars. He was thrilled to discuss it with someone who was not constantly attacking Chewbacca’s existence, or debating whether he was sponsored by Pantene or L’Oréal. Some of his friends liked to diss on the franchise, picking at every little thing they thought was bizarre or nonsensical. Arthur didn’t understand it either. At this point, Alfred had given up trying to make him appreciate the series. 

He was engaged in a deep conversation with his newfound friend when he turned to Arthur who was apparently practicing his Spanish with a bronze-skinned guy who had the build of a stripper. 

“—Joaquin, this is my boyfriend, Alfred,” said Arthur. “Alfred, Joaquin. He’s an  _ Español _ living in London.” 

“Hi,” said Alfred. 

“’S nice to meet you, mate,” replied Joaquin. His grip on Alfred’s hand was firmer than he would have liked. 

When Alfred turned back to his friend, he was gone. What a tragedy. He was stuck listening to Arthur trying to string his words together, laughing with Joaquin, who couldn’t wipe that blinding smile off his face. Goodness, Arthur could be damn charming and flirtatious if he wanted to. Alfred watched as the two of them make their own exclusive circle.  

Social anxiety had started to take root in him. He’d only felt strange when Arthur left him, the thoughts of being in a foreign place sinking in. He didn’t want to be left alone. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, observing and judging him.  _ Look at that clueless American— _

“Having fun?” Someone asked him, sipping what looked like vodka and Coke. 

Alfred mentally kicked himself to respond as the guy introduced himself. “Hey, I’m Alfred.”

And the eyes seemed to leave him alone, looking for another target to taunt. He listened and nodded and laughed as the guy told him how he just walked from the airport to his hostel which were about ten miles from each other. 

“Oh that’s nothing!” said the guy, who was called Dmitri, “That was nothing compared to what my family went through when I was young. We walked from Kazakhstan to Russia, in Chechnya, you know—“ 

He tried to listen more intently while ignoring the vision of Arthur and Joaquin walking towards the dance floor. With absent reactions, he noted Arthur was smiling at Joaquin, the same one he gave Alfred earlier. They were talking with their mouths so close to each other. It might be the trick of light, but they looked as if they were kissing. 

Alfred couldn’t make himself enjoy the rest of the night. They said goodbye to their new friends and exited the bar at around 3 a.m. Fortunately, their hotel was only a few blocks away so they walked on the way back. 

Arthur was making small talk, slurring the most notable parts of his night. “And then Joaquin said— hey, you listening?” 

He stopped walking to observe Alfred’s face. “Wa’s wrong? Y’ ill?” 

Alfred shook his head. “’S nothin’.” 

He said nothing until they reached the hotel lobby. Arthur was being very clumsy, bumping into him every couple of steps, whether on purpose or not, Alfred couldn’t tell. “Oops— haha! I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” 

Normally, Alfred would laugh at how overly apologetic he was, though it was one of those rare moments that Alfred chose silence over anything. 

“Hey, y’ upset?” asked Arthur, eyebrows knit together in apprehension. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Alfred paused to search for a response. He knew Arthur was prone to doing things he’d regret in the morning. Should he confront him or let Arthur realise what he’d done? “What do you think?” 

He was relieved they were entering their room because the conversation was bound to escalate into an argument where they would raise their voices. 

“—yeah, well, you can tell that to Joaquin!” said Alfred with a voice louder than the slamming of the door.

“Oh, is that what it is then? I was just talking to him, and then you started flirting with that Russian guy!” said Arthur, outraged. “Why is this a big deal to you?” 

“I’m not an idiot, Arthur,” replied Alfred, trying to keep his voice under control, but he couldn’t help bursting out, “I saw what you were doing!” 

Despite flinching, Arthur’s defiant eyes were fixed on Alfred. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about! You’re being irrational!” 

This swept away the calm that remained in Alfred’s chest like the wind blowing sheets of paper. Perhaps they were more explosive tonight because they were both drunk and tired from travelling. Alfred hadn’t been this furious for a long time. Arthur was guilty. Why couldn’t he admit what he did? How could he be insensitive to Alfred’s feelings? 

“Why won’t you just admit it?” said Alfred, and he howled as he stubbed his toe at the foot of the bed. “Fucking hell!” 

And he started kicking things that were on his way, their shoes, socks, bags. He tossed the covers and the pillows to the floor, wasting the efforts of the housekeeping staff that tidied their room. 

“What? Alfred, I— What do you want me to say?!” said Arthur, fidgeting and keeping his distance. He was desperately looking around to divert the conversation. He was good at that, changing topics to avoid discussions he didn’t want to face.  

“How are we supposed to make this work when I’m in England?” He said finally, his tone sharper than before. “Will we always end up like this? Will you get irrationally angry every time I meet other people? Assume I’d shag every guy I talk to? Is that what you think of me?” 

He was huffing, his face red. How were they supposed to trust each other when they were like this? He took a deep, steadying breath, realising he was only making things worse by berating Alfred. 

“I’m sorry, Alfred,” he said, “whatever it was you saw us doing— it was all it was. It didn’t mean anything. Please don’t be upset anymore.”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m at fault here!” said Alfred, a muscle twitching in his jaw.  

“Alfred…” 

It was time to make peace with him, despite not seeing through his logic. It was times like this when words failed and only gestures could save them. With outstretched arms, he moved closer to Alfred, to hug him, but then Alfred’s destructive anger got the better of him. He threw his arms suddenly in frustration, to send the message that he didn’t want Arthur to touch him at the moment—

“NO!” Alfred roared, face raging with fury. 

In reflex, Arthur shielded himself with his arms, crouching. He cried, “ _ I’M SORRY! _ Please don’t—!” 

He was panting like he climbed the ten levels to their room. Alfred could only imagine the expression on his face as he kept it down, hidden behind shaking arms. 

Time slowed down for Alfred. He didn’t mean to startle Arthur; he just wanted to keep his distance. “Arthur, I—“ He tested his voice, “I wasn’t—-“ 

He’d  _ never _ do what Arthur thought he was about to do.

Alfred’s instinct was to pick him up and wrap him in his arms, but terror had conquered Arthur’s eyes while he approached slowly. Bile rose up Alfred’s throat by the time he was closer— Arthur kept backing away into the corner until he was pressed against the wall. 

Alfred tried to unfold his arms from his knees gently, but Arthur resisted, thrashing his arms and kicking his legs. 

“I’m sorry, Arthur… I’m sorry!” Alfred said, not wanting to let him go. He kissed his forehead and felt Arthur’s body quaking under his touch. “Baby… Baby, I didn’t mean to—” 

Arthur’s rapid breathing was audible against his ear. He had stopped flailing as his efforts seemed futile against Alfred. In a quiet voice, he said, “I-I need some space, please.” 

Alfred transferred across the room, sitting against the wall opposite Arthur. In silence, he regarded the mess he’d made. The following moments were a series of stills, neither  of them talking or moving. 

He watched Arthur collect his breath. He was rubbing his chest in a circular motion, breathing deeply in and out, his eyes shut. Alfred’s insides squirmed and his chest swelled with guilt, knowing Arthur didn’t want to be next to him. 

There was a vacant look in his eyes when he blinked them open, taking an empty interest at the wallpaper surrounding Alfred. He pressed his back against the wall, his body limp like all of the energy had been sucked out of him. Running his fingers through his disheveled hair, he said, “I was right. This was a mistake. We shouldn’t have stayed together.”

He said it with the same tone as someone announcing the fall of a great city into the enemy’s hands. His face tilted, squared jaw jutting out, fingers trembling in the absence of a cigarette. They had none left. 

Alfred looked up in alarm. “What do you mean?”

Arthur didn’t reply, only letting his green eyes scan Alfred’s face. Wanting answers, Alfred scooted next to him and Arthur didn’t flinch this time. 

“Arthur, please don’t— Oh god, I fucked this up, didn’t I?” His breath hitched. “I didn’t mean it, I’m so sorry…”

“No, Alfred, it’s not that… It’s… everything,” said Arthur, holding his gaze. “It’s for your own good, too. Let’s stop this nonsense.” 

In that moment, Alfred knew what he meant. He’d said it once or twice before. As a joke, in between bottles of beer. A bitter smile on his lips as he stared out at the dark side of the dawn, shoulders hunched. He’d tried to hide his sad eyes, but the familiar tone gave it away. 

_ I don’t deserve you.  _

“Please don’t say that… I—“ Alfred’s voice cracked, though he wasn’t ashamed. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’m disgusted at myself right now, but… But you know I’d never do that, right? I’d never, ever lay my hands on you.”

Alfred couldn’t help himself at this point. Letting go of his restraint, he threw his arms around Arthur who stiffened under his touch. “I’m so sorry,” he pressed a kiss on his lips, “Sorry…” 

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, but he made no effort to wipe them away. 

“Alfred, I…” 

Whatever Arthur was trying to say was left unfinished. The words left him, and he was crying too. He responded to Alfred’s kisses, tasting the salt in Alfred’s wet cheeks, shaking. 

They kissed carelessly and relentlessly until they crashed on the floor. Arthur held Alfred with all he had, arms and legs tight around him. 

Kissing Arthur like never before, Alfred pinned him, possessing him. “Please,” he said, giving him another desperate kiss, “please.” 

They lay on the floor beside the covers dangling from the top of the bed, not letting go of each other. They didn’t remember falling asleep. 

* * *

Alfred found himself curled up against Arthur on the floor the moment he woke up. Broad strips of daylight poured out of the window, colouring the walls bright yellow. It must have been midday. They were still wearing their crumpled clothes from last night, and they stank of morning breath and liquor.

Arthur blinked awake, finding Alfred’s face so close to him. 

“Are you okay?” asked Alfred.

Arthur buried his nose on Alfred’s neck, taking in his scent. He nodded. “I’m quite alright. You?” 

Filled with an overwhelming sense of relief, Alfred couldn’t help but kiss him slowly and gently, his lips lingering against Arthur’s. Caressing Alfred’s face, Arthur touched their noses, eyes closed. Alfred grabbed his wrist and kissed the prominent veins on it.  

Stroking Alfred’s arm, Arthur said, “We’re both such bloody idiots.” 

They let out a hearty laugh.  

The haze from last night was gone, and the cloud had left their minds. They could think clearly again, and more importantly,  _ feel _ . 

“I’m sorry about last night. I really am,” said Alfred. 

“Me too,” replied Arthur, hooking his legs around him. 

Alfred closed the gap between them and kissed Arthur, desperate to taste his mouth again. Allowing himself be pinned to the floor, Arthur squeezed Alfred’s upper body between his thighs. Desire coiled at the pit of his stomach as he arched his back, pressing closer against his lover. 

Fingers fumbling with buttons, Alfred opened Arthur’s shirt wide, mouth pressing against the skin of his chest. Arthur lifted Alfred a little to kiss him below the collarbone. His tanned skin was warm, feeling almost feverish under the sunlight. 

Alfred unzipped Arthur’s pants and scooped him in his arms to carry him to the edge of the bed, reversing positions from their last morning sex. Lapping sloppily at his mouth, he spread Arthur’s legs, dangling them over the floor. 

He took his time kissing Arthur. He ran his hands across his body, feeling every dip and plane under his palms. He watched him quiver as his lips landed on the sensitive spots of his chest, ribs, thighs, teasing until they got closer to where Arthur wanted him to pay attention. 

Not prolonging Arthur’s wait any further, Alfred knelt in between his legs. He pulled down his underwear, revealing an erect, throbbing cock that awaited him. Alfred grabbed it, peppering it with kisses and tracing the thick vein with his tongue before sliding its girth inside his mouth.  

“ _ Alfred _ ,” Arthur breathed, clawing at the sheets.

Underneath him, Arthur bucked his hips. Alfred pressed his lips where he could get him to squirm and moan in pleasure, sending Arthur into a frenzy as he tongued his cock.

Arthur fisted Alfred’s hair as his warm tongue started licking his entrance. Then Alfred inserted two fingers, making him curse out loud. 

“Fuck! Ah— I’m not… gonna last… long…” 

Arthur rocked his hips to meet Alfred’s fingers, the pleasure intensified by his mouth around his member. He focused on all the sensations he was capable of feeling as he fucked Alfred’s mouth at the same time he fucked Arthur with his fingers. It was pure agony and bliss, and it was only a matter of time before he exploded— 

“Ah— shit! Alfred! Oh, shit!” 

His words melted into incoherent noises as euphoria spilled inside him. Arthur tilted his head backward the same time he released his load on Alfred’s mouth. Below him, Alfred didn’t pull away. Lust gleaming in his eyes, he savoured every drop as though it would quench his prolonged thirst. 

Minutes passed in silence. Not long after Arthur finished, Alfred climbed on top of the bed and started caressing and kissing him again. They sat opposite each other and fondled their cocks together, feeling them harden again. 

“Alfred, I need you,” said Arthur in an urgent tone, sucking at Alfred’s lower lip. 

“I’m here, baby, I’m here,” whispered Alfred. His fingers were coated with warm and sticky wetness from squeezing and pulling at their manhood. 

He crossed his legs and Arthur spread his thighs to mount him. Sinking slowly, Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred’s broad shoulders. 

“Are you okay?” asked Alfred upon seeing Arthur grimace as he sunk another inch. 

Arthur let out a sharp breath and nodded, keeping his eyes closed. He concentrated on the feel of Alfred’s palms around his waist and the wetness of his lips against his collarbone to ease the discomfort of being stretched by him. 

“You feel— so wonderful, I— I’ll never get tired— of telling you that,” said Alfred, shutting his eyes. He continued mouthing at Arthur’s ear, whispering dirty promises. 

Once he had Alfred’s length fully inside him, he started rolling his hips, panting, riding Alfred vigorously.   A vision greeted him when he opened his eyes. The golden sunlight was kissing Alfred’s eyelids, his lashes casting shadows across his cheeks. The next moment, Alfred was gazing into him with the most tender expression on his face, his blue eyes brighter than ever. 

Arthur’s heart jolted inside his ribcage. They were face to face once more, closer than they could ever be, making love and smiling at each other like nothing else in the world made sense.

Waves of pleasure surged across his body as Alfred’s big, calloused hands tugged at the length of his cock. Arthur tipped his head back, exposing his neck for Alfred to bite and kiss. 

The three words kept pouring out of his mouth again and again and again. 

Taking it as encouragement, Alfred rolled them over to fall down the mattress. Arthur landed on his back, Alfred straddling him. Strands of his sandy blond hair swayed from his forehead as he pounded Arthur, loving him with all of his body. 

He grunted and puffed when he quickened his pace. Arthur raised his left leg and put it on Alfred’s shoulder to give him a better angle. The bed creaked violently against the wall. 

Arthur gasped and moaned, breathing  _ Alfred, Alfred, Alfred _ against his ear. He’d lost control of his words once Alfred began striking his sweet spot over and over and over… 

His mouth formed a perfect  _ O _ as a warm glow erupted inside him, his mind going blank for a minute. He rolled his hips to keep up with Alfred’s pace while he spilled his seed. Finishing together, sweat dribbled from their foreheads. Alfred collapsed on his side once he pulled out of Arthur. Wordlessly, they lay on top of the sheets. 

When the waves had gone and their bodies had cooled down, Arthur’s arms found Alfred like they always did. Arthur inched closer to him so that his long eyelashes were brushing across Alfred’s cheek. 

“I didn’t kiss him, I swear,” said Arthur. 

Alfred brushed his fingertips across Arthur’s lips to hush him. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. It’s over.” 

Yet, Arthur couldn’t let go of it. Uneasiness knotted his insides until he made a promise. “I shouldn’t have acted that way. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I promise I won’t do it again.”

“And I promise not to act like an overly jealous wife and have a little more trust in you,” said Alfred. He closed his eyes, the events of last night flashing in his mind… his nasty temper getting the better of him. He took Arthur’s hand and entwined their fingers. Guilt struck his chest as he remembered how his anger terrified Arthur. He knew perfectly well what Arthur had braved for years, and he vowed not to be one of those people. “I hope you trust me too.” 

Arthur drew out a long, heavy breath. “I do, love. I do.” 

He squeezed Alfred tightly, feeling exhaustion claim him.  

“So, England?” asked Alfred. 

He nodded. “England.” 

They had had this talk before and ended up with the same conclusion— give it a try and see what would happen. 

“You’re coming with me on my first week, right?” asked Arthur. “You’ll stay with me for a bit? See if you can live there?” 

He was teasing Alfred in the last line, but it was half-meant. They needed to find somewhere they could exist together. Soon, hopefully. 

Beaming, Alfred replied, “Yeah. Yeah, I will.” 

He pulled the covers above them. Arthur closed his eyes as Alfred lay on top of him, taking comfort in his heavy weight and warmth. He couldn’t want for anything else. 

“I’m gonna miss you  _ loads _ , you troublemaker,” he said. 

Alfred hid his face on the crook of Arthur’s neck and pulled him into a rib-cracking hug. “I’m gonna miss you more than you’ll ever know.”  

“We survived during my internship, right?” said Arthur. “We can make it again.” 

Alfred nodded. “I’ll visit you when you can’t come over because you’re too busy having wine with rich European men. Then we’ll fuck until we can’t walk, and the sex will be a million times better because we missed each other and we’ll want to make up for lost time.” 

“You sex maniac!” said Arthur, wrinkling his nose and giving Alfred’s cheek a light smack.  

“Speak for yourself,” said Alfred, sticking his tongue out. 

After a moment of mulling over their misty future, Arthur said, “If it doesn’t work for me, I’ll move back to the States.” 

“Of course, it’ll work for you,” said Alfred, gazing at Arthur’s eyes. “Of course, it will. You’re the perfect fit for it, they even said so.”   

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but Alfred continued, “Look, let’s take it one day at a time, alright?” 

Saying nothing, Arthur fixed his eyes on Alfred. 

“Let’s not worry about what will happen in a month or a year,” said Alfred. “Let’s try and live every day doing something that will help us get closer to where we want to be eventually.” 

“Okay,” replied Arthur. He cupped Alfred’s face to kiss him one last time before falling asleep.

He closed his eyes to think about how they would spend their first day in Italy tomorrow, and how he and Alfred would be reunited in the distant future once they resumed their normal lives. For a fleeting moment, he let his mind wonder how nice it would be to spend the rest of their lives together. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted a travel porn at first, but it got a lot angstier than expected whoops. Just trying to capture the intimacy of an established relationship along with its beautiful and undesirable bits.
> 
> At this point, I have accepted the fact that I can’t write light, optimistic stories. I’m sorry. Will I keep writing angst? Probably. Will I ever stop writing about emotionally damaged characters? Maybe not.
> 
> Let me know if there’s something that you want to see in this AU. Scenes before or after the engagement? Less emotional baggage? More fluff? Adventures? I can’t write in a chronological order, mostly because I can’t commit into writing a long-ass multi-chaptered fic, so this instalment is my solution. Till next time!


End file.
